Wang told Chiun that his own future would be unprecedented in the history of Sinanju, but what Wang foretold was also less than crystal clear. Chiun's future would be magnificent, Wang said, but he hinted that a magnificent price would be paid.
But what price?
Chiun had slowed down in recent months, dwelling endlessly on the words of Wang, on the histories of Sinanju. He had sought to resolve in meditation the mysteries of Wang's prophecy, but had come away with only speculation. He had no clearer picture of his future now than he had when he was in the village of Sinanju, after the Time of Succession, after the final obliteration of Nuihc and the Dutchman.
Chiun didn't even have a path to follow. But he knew he needed to be more active again, escape the thrall of inactivity. Distantly he heard a familiar voice coming from the open-air lobby a few hundred feet from the balcony. "Prettier than you! Prettier than you!"
He allowed himself a slight smile. He did thoroughly enjoy berating that unbeautiful bird. But it was idle entertainment. He needed to clear away the cobwebs of his months of idleness.
There was a meaningless squawk, and then the bird spoke again.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Remo exhorted.
"What?" Smith said.
Remo hung up the phone and went onto the balcony, where Chiun stood with a shocked tightness to his face, as if his parchment skin were being stretched.
"Little Father?"
"Listen!" Chiun hissed.
Remo probed the grounds of the resort with his ears. Lots of air-conditioning noises. Vacuums from rooms being cleaned. The hush of the surf and laughter from the swimming pool. All the noises expected from a beach resort. Cutting through it all was the big macaw calling out from inside the lobby, "Prettier than you! Prettier than you!"
"What am I-?"
"Be still and listen!"
Remo shut up and listened. He knew Chiun well, and he knew something was wrong. But all he heard was the piercing squawk of that idiot parrot. Then even the parrot shut up.
"It is gone," Chiun said finally.
"What is gone?"
"Something strange," Chiun said ambiguously, looking out over the resort to the sea.
"That tells me a lot. Why'd you get so excited?"
"I was not excited," Chiun said, but without vehemence.
"Then why did you get so alarmed?"
"You may be assured I was not alarmed."
"Whatever! You were not your usually sunny self for a second there, so how come?"
"If you were ever to focus your attention away from Remo Williams, you would notice that I go through a range of emotions in any given day that we are in each other's company," Chiun said. "Sometimes I am aggravated, sometimes I am frustrated and sometimes I am irritated. There are times when I am exacerbated, disgusted, offended, sickened, shocked, galled, annoyed and appalled."
"Okay-"
"There are times when I am disturbed, or perturbed, or distraught, and sometimes I am just sadly amused."
"Well, whatever it was, you're sure back to normal now," Remo snapped and retreated inside the suite to call back Smith.
Chiun stayed on the balcony, watching the Caribbean glimmering in the sun but not seeing it. His concentration was on the sounds.
He did not hear it again.
Had he been mistaken? Could his ears have fooled him? Could he have been so engrossed in his momentous thoughts that his mind tricked him into thinking that he heard something that wasn't there?
Was his hearing starting to fail? He furled his brow and probed the sprawling resort. Down on the beach an obese and hirsute man was walking to the small shack where intoxicating beverages were dispensed, and Chiun concentrated on it.
"Can you make me a Singapore Sling?" the hairy one asked.
"Of course, sir," the bartender said with a habitual smile.
Chiun felt satisfied. He heard every word perfectly, despite the distance and despite the slurred speech of the hairy one. His hearing was still as good as ever-that is, well beyond the capabilities of every other human on the planet except for Remo.
But his moment of relief turned to worry. If not his ears, had it been his mind?
Losing his senses would be terrible; losing his mind would be worse. It would be humiliating.
No, by Sinanju standards he was far too young for senility or the infirmities of the elderly. A spring duck. But that meant what he heard was genuine. What could that mean? For his own peace of mind he would need to prove it. To himself.
DR. HAROLD W. SMITH HAD a pallid gray complexion on his best days. When he grew pale, he looked like nothing less than a days-dead corpse.
"Mark?"
"Yes, Dr. Smith?" Mark Howard was hunched over his keyboard, oblivious to the display on his screen. Smith had come halfway behind the desk to get a look at his associate's progress.
"What are you doing?" Smith asked.
Mark Howard stopped and looked up at Smith. "Researching. You asked me to create a profile on that minister of tourism."
"So instead you are downloading pornography?" Mark Howard's mouth dropped open, then he followed Smith's gaze to the monitor. In one corner was a looping video window showing a woman in a bikini.
"That's not exactly pornography," Howard said, grinning. "I mean, she's not even naked."
"That is very close to naked," Smith said, lips pinching together.
"Well, that's her. The minister of tourism."
"Where? In the bikini?"
"It's a commercial," Howard said.
"That's the one Remo ran into?" Smith asked incredulously. "Dawn Summens?"
"Yeah. Lucky SOB."
Smith stared at the image for a moment and then turned away with a sort of painted-on shock. "I'll wait for your profile."
Mark grinned. The profile was just about complete, and he sent the batch of electronic files across the network to Smith's office.
He included the commercial.
"WHAT DID YOU MAKE of her," Smith asked Remo.
"Huh? Oh, Summens?"
"That is who we were discussing," Smith reminded him. "Are you sure you are feeling well, Remo?"
"I'm fine," Remo said, pulling his thoughts away from the strange behavior of Chiun, who was still standing on the balcony and was abnormally alert. Something had spooked him. That worried Remo. Chiun was his mentor, his father, his friend. Remo loved the old man more than any human being on this Earth.
Chiun was also one of the most powerful human beings on the planet by virtually any measure. He was a Master of Sinanju, for crying out loud. Masters of Sinanju don't spook easy.
So what just happened out on the balcony? What had Chiun heard, or thought he heard?
"So?" Smitty asked.
"Huh?"
"Minister Summens?" Mark Howard prodded.
"Where'd you come from?" Remo asked.
"I've been on the line since you called back," Howard said. "Remember, about ninety seconds ago when you said, 'Hiya Beav.' You were just now telling us about Minister Summens."
"Yeah. She's a strange one. You know she started as a bikini model?"
"We know," Smith said icily.
"We found some of the commercials that are traded on-line," Mark Howard announced. "She has her own fan clubs."
"I'd believe it," Remo said. "But she may be a part of whatever badness is going on. I don't know yet. She's about the most guarded person I've ever talked to. I had lunch with her and got nowhere."
Silence.
"I mean I learned nothing," Remo clarified.
"So what leads you to think she could be tied into the mainland troubles?" Smith asked. "She was not on the U.S. bus tour."
"My background checks show she does have strong ties to President Grom," Howard said. "They were romantically linked at one time. She's heavily involved in the proindependence lobbying effort, and with an uncanny degree of success. Senator Sam Switzer visited Union a few days ago, and today he came out in favor of granting the island independence and providing it an aid package to help it start a national government."